SexArt - Episode 9

She steps into the low-lit room, silk dress slipping from her shoulder. He watches her from the chair, legs spread, cock already hard against his thigh. She pauses just long enough for him to see everything—then she walks over, kneels between his knees, and wraps her hand around him. Slow stroke. Tight grip. He exhales through his teeth when she leans in and takes him into her mouth. No hesitation. Just heat and pressure and the sound of her lips sliding wet around him. She works him deep until her throat tightens, then pulls back, saliva shining on his skin. He grabs her by the hair and pulls her up. The dress comes off. He bends her over the arm of the chair, lines himself up, and sinks in hard. She gasps, back arching. His hand finds the small of her back and holds her steady while he fucks her deep and steady. Every thrust lands. She grips the fabric, mouth open. He leans forward, one hand sliding between her thighs to circle her clit. She comes first—sharp, sudden, cunt pulsing around him. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until his rhythm breaks and he pushes in one last time, burying himself as he spills inside her. The room goes quiet except for their breathing.